Halls of the Fallen
by ShazzyZhang
Summary: Coulson wakes up in a very strange place and is presented with a very strange offer. Some mild spoilers for the Avengers movie. Rated T for context. Slash. CRACK. Humour. Drama. Definitely a WTF sort of story. ONE-SHOT


_AN: I blame my editor for this one. Wolfbane is an evil, evil muse. I disclaim all characters and likenesses blah blah, but I own the crap out of my writing. Mild spoilers to the Avengers movie, but if you're reading this you probably already know._

_Anyway, this is silly, CRACK, slash, insanity that I don't know why I am actually doing this._

_Also, this is the first Avengers/Thor fic I've ever written so play nice._

_Cheers._

_-Shazzy_

**Halls of the Fallen**

Agent Coulson opened his eyes and groaned. He felt like he had been hit by a truck. He coughed lightly to himself, trying to clear the agony from his chest. He didn't move for a long moment. Everything felt heavy.

He squinted, staring up at the ceiling, trying to recall what had happened.

He remembered S.H.I.E.L.D. He remembered Loki breaching the containment unit. He remembered Thor getting dropped out of the helicarrier.

He remembered holding the gun...

A sudden jolt of fright wracked his body and Coulson was sitting upright in an instant. He pressed his hands against his chest, feeling the firmness of his flesh, making sure that he wasn't dreaming, and trying to ensure that he wasn't injured.

There was no wound. There was no blood.

He was intact.

Coulson breathed a sigh of relief and looked himself over critically.

He was still wearing his familiar grey suit, white shirt, but his tie had gone missing. His shoes were scuffed, but otherwise the same as he'd remembered. He ran a hand over his face. He had a bit more of a five o'clock shadow than he'd have liked but it wasn't anything to suggest that he'd been unconscious for more than a few hours. He ran his hand over his head and through his hair.

He was confused.

Coulson looked around, taking in his unfamiliar surroundings. He realized that he definitely wasn't on S.H.I.E.L.D anymore.

Coulson pulled himself to his feet shakily. He wasn't feeling remarkably strong and he still wasn't convinced that he hadn't nearly blown himself up. He wasn't quite sure that what had happened in the fight with wasn't just a dream.

He was in a long hall with a domed roof. The floors beneath him seemed to be made of some sort of marble tiles in an intricate mosaic, and everything was gilt in gold. There was a huge harvest table in the center of the room, laden with food and goblets and pitchers of water and wine. There were no chairs, just long, low benches.

Coulson stumbled to the bench and sat down, peering about himself in awe. Something didn't seem right.

"I have to be dead." Coulson announced. "I have to be in..."

"Valhalla."

Coulson was on his feet in an instant, a knife from the table in his hand as the answer echoed about him. Heavy footsteps punctuated by the arrhythmic click of a walking stick drew closer to Coulson as he trembled in fear and confusion.

A long shadow appeared and Coulson turned to face it.

"You!" Coulson hissed, his voice filled with hatred and a touch of fear.

"Yes, me." The answer drawled. "Don't be so dramatic, Good Lord."

A smile crept across Loki's face as he approached the trembling agent Coulson.

"You can put the knife down. I'm not here to fight you." Loki instructed.

Coulson found himself unable to resist Loki's instruction and he quite mechanically set the knife back down on the table.

"You should be far more courteous to your host." Loki said, removing his long horned helmet. He smiled again, his icy blue eyes lighting up with delight. "I mean, you are a guest here."

"In Valhalla?" Coulson asked. "I thought your _father_ was the one who feasted with the dead."

A look of smug dislike crossed Loki's face, a half smile forming on his lips. "No, my _father_ feasts with those who died valiantly in battle." He corrected. "You died foolishly by your own hand."

Coulson growled and threw a punch in Loki's direction. He found his fist refusing to make contact with Loki's smug face and it hovered as though in possession of a mind of its own a few centimetres away from the tip of Loki's nose.

"Temper, temper." Loki chided. "Sit down." He added.

Again, Coulson found himself unable to resist Loki's command.

"What are you doing to me?" Coulson croaked.

Loki shrugged and took a seat next to him. "It is nothing more than an invitation that you are too eager to accept." He purred. "Your heart really isn't into fighting me." He smiled an inviting smile. There was no malice in his voice, or in that smile. "Besides, this," he indicated, waving his hand, "is all for you."

Coulson arched his eyebrow as he peered around the hall.

"For me?" He repeated dumbly. "Come again?"

"Is it so hard to believe that I have brought you here?" Loki asked. "It's a far cry from Valhalla, I suppose, but it's a feasting hall for a fallen soldier."

Coulson blinked in surprise. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Loki sighed and set his helmet and spear on the table, well out of Agent Coulson's reach. "I brought you here for... companionship." Loki explained.

"Companionship?" Coulson parroted. "For you?"

Loki shrugged. "Why not?" He asked rhetorically.

"Mostly because I hate you and I want you dead more than anything else?" Coulson replied in kind.

"You'd rather see me dead than be sent back to the pitiful existence you led on Midgard?" Loki assumed. "That is truly an intense hatred unlike anything I have ever seen." He admitted. "I'm rather impressed."

Coulson scowled. "No." He admitted slowly. "If letting you live meant getting back to Earth..."

Loki clapped his hands. "Unfortunately, that's impossible, even for me." He said apologetically. "Your body was committed to the sea about three days ago. It was only by sheer luck that I was able to snatch your _hamr_ before you were sent on to wherever you were meant to go."

"My hammer?" Coulson asked.

"You damn humans." Loki muttered. "You would call it your essence? No, your soul."

"My soul?" Coulson said, running his hand through his thinning hair. "You mean... I'm actually dead?"

"What did you think Valhalla was?" Loki enquired with a sincere childlike innocence.

Coulson's breathing grew rapid as he felt a panic attack setting in. "Oh my God..." He breathed, gripping the edge of the table. "So on the helicarrier..."

"Yes, yes." Loki said, speeding the thought process along. "You died. I'm sorry, there was nothing that I could do." He spoke quickly. "But now? Now, you're here. Whole. Alive. Kind of."

Loki stood again, his cape swishing pleasantly as he moved. He stretched his arms out. "Look at what you have!"

"Imprisonment at your hand!" Coulson replied bitterly.

"A new life!" Loki countered. "Immortality, and the chance to be the consort to a _god_."

Coulson's face paled at the word 'consort'.

"I think I'm going to throw up." He said quietly.

"Drink some wine." Loki responded flatly. "It'll help make this easier to digest."

Coulson hesitated for a moment, unsure if he could trust Loki, but he figured that he was already dead, what was the harm? He poured himself a goblet full of the ruby red wine and gulped it down greedily.

"Why?" Coulson asked. "Why me?"

Loki crouched in front of him and stared him in the eyes.

"Because you understand me." Loki crooned. "You understand what it feels like to be trusted but shunned. You know the loneliness of a hierarchy. You understand the pain of not being able to live up to someone else's expectations. You understand how it feels to _worship_ the ground someone walks on only to be ignored, to be treated like nothing better than an insect."

Coulson looked away, ashamed to admit that Loki was right, that deep down, no matter what assignment he was given, what rank he achieved, he was never anything better than a human, nothing more than an agent with a serial number. He hated the feeling of resentment. It had subsided slowly over the years, less of a nagging, screaming thing and more of a shadow cast over him sometimes, especially after Captain Rogers had returned.

"I'm right." Loki said with a smile. "I can see it in your eyes."

"Shut up." Coulson croaked.

"There's no going back." Loki offered sadly. "You were cremated and dumped into the ocean. Even if I could bring you back..."

Coulson frowned, his hands shaking as he sat holding the now-empty goblet.

"It was a lovely ceremony." Loki added, as if that would make things better.

"...you said consort?" Coulson asked hesitantly.

Loki smiled.

"Well certainly not like this!" He exclaimed, standing up. "That would be uncivil."

Coulson wrinkled his face in disgust at the thought of being a consort to any man, let alone Loki. He was a pretty solid, stand up, completely and utterly heterosexual man. The thought of another man in any sense other than friends or co-worker was nauseating.

He poured himself another glass of wine and drank it as quickly as he had the first.

"This is a nightmare." He groaned as he poured himself a third goblet.

"You know, I can be anything you want?" Loki offered, as if it would ease the idea into Coulson's mind. He reached out a hand and placed it gently, affectionately, against Coulson's shoulder.

"Can you be dead?" Coulson asked sarcastically.

"Another remark like that and I will send you to a realm of eternal punishment and torture." Loki threatened, all trace of civility gone from his voice.

Coulson sighed and drank his wine silently.

Loki smiled. "Let me be what you want." He said gently. "Eternity is such a long time."

Coulson's lip twitched as he scowled. "I'm definitely a boob man." He said wistfully.

Loki smiled and snapped his fingers, calling forth a thick blue mist that wrapped its hazy tendrils around his body, obscuring him from Coulson's view. Coulson drank greedily from the wine pitcher, praying that this was all a nightmare.

The mist soon subsided to reveal Loki's new form.

He'd slimmed down and filled out, his hips and chest taking on new and highly appealing curves. His green and gold outfit was suddenly very skintight and low cut. His cape hung from shapely shoulders and his hair was much longer.

'He' was no longer the correct description.

Coulson felt his jaw drop.

Lady-Loki was a stunner.

Maybe, Coulson considered drunkenly, eternity wasn't going to be as bad as he had thought.


End file.
